


creature fear

by Melomaniac



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, British English, Denial of Feelings, F/M, Feelings Realization, Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, No Smut, Past Allura/Lance (Voltron), Pining Keith (Voltron), Post-Canon, Slow Burn, allura made lance feel not great, klance, lance doesn't know he's pining but he is, mild existential questioning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-07-17 23:36:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19965094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melomaniac/pseuds/Melomaniac
Summary: Another breezy night and he can’t sleep. Maybe that’s why he sits cross legged in bed at 2 am with his communicator pressed to his chest. Maybe that’s why his breath catches so hard in his throat when Keith calls, for the first time in seven months.Keith has always come in flashes, here then gone, then back stronger than before, different to the person Lance had known yet still ineffably Keith. Too much of something for Lance to understand.The wind picks up as he stares at Keith’s name on the communicator, flashing blue then white then blue again. He picks up the call.creature fear. here defined as the fear of making choices that will push you forward, to a place without known comfort but of endless possiblity - to be grand and exciting and peaceful





	creature fear

**Author's Note:**

> Title is taken from the song 'Creature Fear' by Bon Iver. Genius says it's about fear for a future with a person whose life will inevitably fuck yours up - and yeah, sure, but also I'm choosing to believe it means something else as well.
> 
> I wanted to write my idea of what could happen in the year after Allura's death. (also, because of the whole multiple universes plot, technically this did happen in one of them, wow who knew)
> 
> There's a lot of faults with this fic (especially in the timeline), but if you want to watch two idiots pine their way into being happy for six months, it's worth reading. Either way, I hope you enjoy this. Feel free to leave a comment, it's brain fuel and I am depleted as heck

There are moments when it is too much. Keith looks into the mirror and sees a face he has steadily grown into, and recognises the loneliness in the corner of it, resting. He leads missions, he leads well. They start to look at him from below, and he lets them, even when it tugs at somewhere close to his ribs. It sneaks up on him, quietly, in the night, when he stares up at a cold metal ceiling and tries to make out faces in the darkness. He thinks he might carve their names in. He knows it's been too long since the last time he saw them but he can't seem to make himself stop. 

There are moments when he realises there is no-one left to bring him back. In his dreams, he turns to his right, and the spot at his side is empty - behind him, empty. Maybe, he thinks, he's finally done it. He's rushed too far ahead to be reached.

He’s lost.

———————————————

Returning to Earth had felt natural for Lance. Allura’s death had marked him, and he had changed. Funny, he looked back and couldn't remember when. His family welcomed him back with only an inch of regret; they had liked Allura, but they hadn’t known her.

Even more natural is the farm. Doing nothing sent him restless, had his hands shaking, his brain too loud to handle. When mom had sent him out to milk the cow, he had resisted at first, but the familiarity of it all was enough to calm his nerves; it reminded him of life before Voltron, but also of milkshakes for his team. Now it was work. An occupation. He was occupied.

He finds that he likes it. It's peaceful. He hadn't liked the peaceful before. Before Voltron, he had been a wild thing, energy enough to vibrate in his seat when told to sit still, jumping out of his first floor window in the bright spring morning to run across gravel and sand. Always the loudest in a group, even in his large family, the clearest voice in the room. And then finally, out in the deep abyss of space, he had realised that there were much wilder things than him - that the universe was wild, and he was tame. 

So he's at peace. Lying in the grass, in the summer, eyes closed and seeing only the pink of his eyelids, the gentlest breeze lingering over his arms - he feels close to Allura, closer even, he has to admit, than he ever felt in life. The connection of all things suddenly makes sense to him. Everything is everything else, all sewn from the same thread, in every reality. 

And now it is Allura at its centre. When Lance breathes in the hot summer air, he feels her in the breath of the atmosphere. His heart beats at a pace he _knows_ isn't his; it belongs to something else.

But time passes. Eventually the days get colder. New calluses form on his palms. 

One night, he leaves the farm and he walks to the beach, alone. He walks across the sand as far out as he can, waits until the tide catches the edge of him, and imagines he can feel warmth from the glow of the moon. He opens his eyes and looks up at the sky.

In a single clench of his heart, he remembers what fire had burned in him, that feeling of wanderlust as central to him as the string that led him forever home. The smell of salt sends him reeling, longing for something just out of reach, always just out of reach. He thought he found it with Voltron, as a defender of the universe, then in Allura, to whom he gave the heart that had grown so full and yet so cavernous within him. And still... 

He had thought, lying in bed in the long nights of Voltron, that it was homesickness holding him back, but now he's home. He is at peace, he is grieving, he is happy.

Why do the stars in the vast black sky fan the flame like nothing else could?

———————————————

Keith is older, and wiser. He’s not the angry child he had been at eighteen, lost and searching for something unknown in the dusty dead of the desert. He’s older and wiser, and he knows now how to get what he wants, just as long as he knows that he wants it. 

So what is it that he wants? At eighteen it had been Shiro and the family the man offered, and then it had been to serve the universe as a Paladin of Voltron. With his mother, on the back of a space whale, it had startled him to know that what he always wanted in the end was home. More startling, that home was not Earth, not Shiro, not Voltron, certainly not the Blade of Marmora. Home was with his friends: the people - and aliens, he supposed - that he had gathered along the way. 

What is it now that he wants? Now that he can’t go home. Now that home is spread across the vast expanse of an entire universe, no longer a place to dream of returning to, as it had been in the Marmora base before. Perhaps that’s why he’s looking into the mirror or the ceiling or the stars - for an answer. 

He is older and wiser, no longer angry, but so much lonelier now that he knows what he is missing, and he knows that if he picked up his communicator his contacts would be full of people he could call, who would listen, and he knows that if he picks up that communicator he will put it back down before he can press call. Besides, it’s never rang, so what does that mean?

Maybe he isn’t old enough, or wise enough.

He carves their names into the ceiling anyway. 

———————————————

Lance feels guilty, too. It’s been six months now since Allura’s sacrifice, and he has barely spoken to his friends. Calls from Hunk and Shiro, Pidge, even Coran, have become increasingly infrequent, and Lance tells himself it is because of their new roles in protecting the universe keeping them busy. Keith hasn’t called at all, but Lance has heard rumours that he’s rebuilding the Blade of Marmora to absorb the Galra empire into the coalition. What an occupation. He must be very occupied. Too busy even to give him the number to his new communicator. It’s only at night with the window open to let in the breeze that he lets himself think otherwise. 

“I could call them, for once,” he tells the wind, which blows light and cool. “But they’re probably busy.” He sighs. “Besides, who knows what time it is now in their bit of space, they could be sleeping. I don’t want to wake them.” The wind argues, bursting forth to shut his window.

Lance sits up with a groan. “Not this again,” he frowns, and moves to open the window. This time the wind shuts his door with a slam that sounds something like disappointment. “Hey,” he warns, “You’ll wake up my family.”

The breeze dies down, but not before one last tug at his curtains, guiding his gaze outside. He sees the stars. They’ve been brighter lately, as if the very sky is calling him out to explore. _Look at what we offer,_ they say, _look how shiny and new and all for you_. “I like it here,” he whispers angrily, “I like my work, I like my land, I like my home.”

 _Ah but how lonely,_ the stars twinkle, _how dull._

“Maybe. But I can’t have both.”

———————————————

Another month, and Keith thinks he might be able to do it. If he can bring together a whole empire with just his mother and a small group of rebels, if he can absorb himself into a culture he doesn’t understand, then surely he can call his friends.

He storms into his room with a passion, immediately starting to pace back and forth as well as he can in the small space. He’s almost as tall as the ceiling, his head almost reaches the space where their names are carved. He feels he must be going mad, finally, because he suddenly realises that he spelt Coran’s name wrong, and the thought sends him spinning, so he sits down on his rock hard bed and tries to focus on breathing in and out for a minute.

It’s been a long day. Not every planet wants to be liberated of the only regime they’ve known. Not every Galran’s sense of self-preservation is enough to accept the changes. Some fight back too hard. Some get killed. Today it was Keith that had to do it.

Before he can realise it, he picks up his communicator and looks down at the screen. Some of his hair falls into his eyes. Frustrated, he pushes the lock behind his ear, letting his hand fall to the split ends. He is surprised to realise that his hair has grown much longer; it rests on his shoulders now. With his other hand, he scrolls down the contact list. At least, he smiles to himself, Lance can’t call him ‘mullet’ anymore. His thumb stops. He could always call… but would he even answer? Would Lance mock Keith’s awkward attempt at connection? Or would he just laugh it off and call him an idiot for waiting so long?

The thought warms him, unfreezes his thumb, and has him pressing down on Lance’s name before he can second guess himself. He’s a creature of instinct and want, and what he wants right now is to hear Lance’s voice. Nothing else has ever felt so clear.

He moves to cross his legs and drops the communicator onto his bed so he can clench his fists. He watches Lance’s name flash blue to white to blue again as the call rings out across the universe. _Please, _Keith thinks, _please_.__

____

____

———————————————

Another breezy night and he can’t sleep. Maybe that’s why he sits cross legged in bed at 2 am with his communicator pressed to his chest. Maybe that’s why his breath catches so hard in his throat when Keith calls, for the first time in seven months.

Keith has always come in flashes, here then gone, then back stronger than before, different to the person Lance had known yet still ineffably Keith. Too much of something for Lance to understand.

The wind picks up as he stares at Keith’s name on the communicator, flashing blue then white then blue again. He picks up the call.

———————————————

“Lance?”

“I… Keith.”

“Uh, I know it’s been a while since I-”

“It’s been seven months you idiot, why didn’t you call?”

“You didn’t call either! No-one did. Why was it my job?”

“You didn’t give us your number!”

“But - oh.”

“Yes, ‘oh’. What, is your mullet growing into your brain now too?”

“It’s not a mullet.”

“You keep telling yourself that, buddy.”

“No - no really, it’s not. It’s grown to my shoulders.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, ‘oh.’”

“It’s… been a while, huh.”

“Yeah.”

“Are you really -”

“Am I what, Lance?”

“Are you leading the Galra empire now? I heard you were their new emperor or something.”

“Where on earth did you hear that?”

“Well, not from earth. Hunk said he heard rumours from some diplomats he served dinner on the Atlas.”

“It’s not true. I mean, I’m starting to think they’ll ask but - I really don’t want that.”

“Duh. You don’t like the spotlight.”

“You’ve not always known that.”

“No. Hard to be your rival if you didn’t really want what I wanted, though, so I improvised.”

“...”

“Keith? Still there?”

“I’m here. Lance, what - what time is it on earth?”

“It’s, uh, wow, it’s about half two at night. Got late pretty fast.”

“Oh, I woke you up. I can hang up -”

“Don’t you dare, mullet, who knows when you’ll call again.”

“Sooner than seven months, I promise.”

“Thanks. What about you?”

“What?”

“What time is it on, well, whatever planet you’re on?”

“I’m not on a planet, we’re travelling right now. We travel a lot. So it’s night, I guess.”

“Are you having fun saving the universe, Emperor Keith?”

“Haha, hilarious. At least I’m not the court jester.”

“I’d rather make people laugh than order them around. I bet you’d feel the same if you had a sense of humour.”

“I have a sense of humour. I like knock knock jokes. And puns.”

“Then I bet I can make you laugh. Knock knock.”

“I bet you can’t. Who’s there?”

“Kaltenecker says.”

“Kaltenecker says who?”

“No, Kaltenecker says moo.”

“Oh that was terrible.”

“Yeah, but you’re laughing. I win.”

“Fine, you win this round, sharpshooter.”

“Don’t think I don’t know what you did, by the way.”

“What did I do?”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“I guess not.”

“Keith.”

“Yes?”

“Are you still awake?”

“I answered you didn’t I?”

“Are you falling asleep?”

“Maybe… maybe a little.”

“Are you happy?”

“I don’t…”

“Keith? Buddy?”

“...”

“Goodnight, you stupid space ninja.”

———————————————

Keith wakes up feeling well rested for the first time in - well, in seven months. For a moment, he can’t remember the last night, but then it all comes back in a rush; he feels he can still hear the echo of Lance’s voice in his ears. He checks to see if he’s still there - if they fell asleep together and neither remembered to end the call, an oddly warm thought - but his communicator is dead, so he finds he has no way of knowing. 

Even that is pleasant, the not knowing. It means he can assume it did.

When he’s inevitably called to lead a mission later, the phantom-memory of falling asleep on call with Lance keeps him cool headed throughout. He makes faster decisions, better decisions, as if his right hand man is leading him along, as if someone is there to temper his fire with a little bit of ice.

He doesn’t notice Krolia’s frown as she watches his Galra teammates congratulating him on the mission, nor does he notice the awe in their eyes, so full he is of something opposite to loneliness.

———————————————

Keith keeps calling, night after night, for nearly a week - the best week in so long - until one night when Lance sleeps through the call. After that, he stops.

Keith doesn’t call Lance the next night. Lance assumes he’s busy. But then he doesn’t call the next. Or the next. Lance keeps staying up until 2 am just in case, for a few days, until he gets annoyed and decides to just call his idiot leader himself.

The communicator rings once before Keith picks up. So he wasn’t busy.

“Lance - “

“Why haven’t you called? Don’t you dare start ghosting me again.”

“I thought you wouldn’t want me to. I can only really call at this time, and you were asleep the other day. I didn’t want to keep you up.” 

Lance huffs out a sigh. “That’s real nice of you,” he rolls his eyes, “But I can’t sleep most nights anyway, it’s too quiet.”

There’s silence on the other end. “Do you want to talk about that maybe?”

Lance raises his eyebrows. “Why? Do you want to listen?”

“I - “ Keith sounds defensive, “I guess I don’t mind.”

“Aw,” Lance coos, “Emo Keith wants to talk about feelings at the sleepover. Do you want me to braid your mullet and you can paint my toenails?” He’s more snappish than he meant to be. Some part of Lance wants Keith to argue with him so he can hang up, even though he called.

“Not a mullet,” Keith says, “But you could braid it if you’d like. I’m not getting near your toes though, I don’t like feet.”

It stings that Keith grew up without him - that somewhere along the line, Keith’s temper was cooled, and he wasn’t there to see it. Yet, he’s grateful that he didn’t argue back. He would have hated to hang up, really. If there was any wind tonight, he’s sure it would be angry with him for trying to start a fight - almost angry as he’d be with himself.

“Feet are fun,” Lance sighs, “My toes are painted already anyway.” He wiggles them in front of him to annoy Keith, as if he could see.

“What colour?” Keith asks, so sincerely that Lance laughs.

“Red.”

“Not blue?” Lance can hear Keith’s smile.

“It was my sister’s polish, and she only has red.”

“Veronica?”

“Yeah.” Lance pauses, something popping into his head. “She had a bit of a crush on you actually, how funny is that.”

“Ew,” Keith groans, “why.” 

It’s sarcastic, probably, or not even a real question, but it tugs at Lance somehow, because suddenly he is thinking of why. He can think of a few reasons his sister would have liked Keith, more than a few; Keith is cool, and smart, and yet a self-sacrificial idiot with no idea of how to take care of himself, and also maybe a little beautiful, if pale alien boys with mullets are your thing. So yeah, Lance can think of why quite easily.

“No idea,” he says instead, a little absently, because this has thrown him. He didn’t expect to be thinking about what Keith’s new shoulder length hair would look like tied back, or what he’d say about Lance’s new tan lines and calluses if he saw them, or what 21 year old Keith would look like next to 19 year old Lance. Are they the same height now? It’s only been seven months, but Lance is an inch taller. Would that make a difference?

“Wow, that’s harsh,” Keith laughs, and it startles Lance back to reality.

“Maybe girls like mullets. You should cut your hair back to normal.” And yes, that’s good, Keith with a mullet, no possibility of tying it up. No more visions of Keith with a small ponytail. Let’s not be ridiculous.

“This is my new normal, Lance,” he admonishes, “Besides, why would I care what girls like?”

Lance sits upright. “Why? You already got someone in mind?” A horribly cold thought hits him. “It’s not that Acxa girl is it? Why are you dating _her_?” Maybe that’s the real reason Keith didn’t call; he was busy with his new purple girlfriend, saving the universe with someone new, and no, Lance was not jealous.

“Uh, I’m not?” Keith sounds confused. Of course he is; Lance is confused. He has no idea where that came from, that rising of sickness in his gut similar to jealousy. Before it can overwhelm him completely, he shakes his head, and he shuts it out. He puts it in a neatly labelled box and shoves it behind his complicated feelings for Allura, right beside his complicated feelings for earth.

“Sorry buddy,” he forces a smile, “just would’ve wanted you to tell me. I thought we were teammates and all.”

“We are,” Keith sounds panicked, now, “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay, calm down dude.” Lance bites his lip as he looks at his toes, and asks anyway. “So you’re not dating anyone.”

Keith laughs. “Who would I date? I only see the Blade of Marmora, which at this point is my mother and a bunch of her friends.”

“What? Kolivan not good enough for you?” Lance’s heart is beating out of his chest. What on earth is he doing, trying to probe Keith this way?

This time, Keith doesn’t laugh, but sounds wry when he speaks. “He’s not my type.”

“Can I ask what is?” 

“What?” 

Lance licks his lips. “What’s your type? I didn’t think you had one at all, to be honest. I’ve never seen you flirt with a cute alien we met.”

Keith is quiet. “Well, that’s not true. You just haven’t noticed.”

“What does that mean?” Lance laughs, though his heart is going wild. The stars are twinkling at him, mocking him.

“I think you were too busy with Nyma to notice me flirting with Rolo, Lance.”

Shocked, Lance speaks before he can think. “Rolo? Really? Why?”

Keith lets out a breath. “Oh, I don’t know. He was handsome. He had nice eyes.” Keith pauses. “I guess… he was calm and confident, and I liked it.”

Lance doesn’t know what to say.

“That was before he tried to steal your lion. I didn’t like that.”

“Good, I’d expect better taste from you anyway,” Lance tries to joke.

“Hmm, would you,” Keith mumbles. It has Lance clenching his fists to tether himself. Something about this, talking with Keith like this at night, with the full moon and a silent breeze - it’s breaking him down, has him feeling off centre, like a misaligned fold on a piece of paper. 

“It’s getting late,” Lance whispers. “I should be getting to sleep.”

“Oh yeah,” Keith perks up, “you never answered my question.”

Lance frowns, forgetting. “Which was?”

“If you want to talk about why you can’t sleep.”

“It’s - it’s not that deep really. I’m a bit,” he winces, “sensitive about it, but really it’s no big deal.”

“I think it is,” Keith says simply.

“It’s way too quiet,” Lance says in a rush. “I mean, earlier in the night it’s okay, because I can hear my family, and sometimes I can hear Luis’s kids laughing in the bath, which makes me smile but... “ he trails off.

“Lance. I’m still here.”

“But you’re not,” he snaps, “you’re off in space somewhere lightyears from me, saving the universe still. And Pidge is inventing life saving gadgets, and Hunk is a super cool diplomat, and Shiro is too, and Coran’s rebuilding an entire planet and - I mean where am I? What am I doing? Seriously, Keith, what am I doing?”

“Lance, you haven’t actually told me.”

“Oh.” How had he forgotten _that_? “Well, I’m working on the farm with my family.”

“That sounds…”

“Useless? Boring?”

“I was going to say peaceful. It sounds peaceful, and nice.”

Lance throws himself back onto his bed, looking up at the ceiling, where there are glow in the dark stars left from his childhood. “I wanted to explore space. And then I got that, and I got scared, so I wanted to come home.”

“And now you’re where you thought you wanted to be,” Keith starts, “and it feels wrong.”

Lance blinks. “Yes.” He understands, of course Keith understands. “But also it feels right. I like the farm, it _is_ peaceful, and frankly I deserve my bit of peace after everything. We all do.”

“Yes.” Keith is whispering now. 

Lance looks at the biggest star on his ceiling. “Am I selfish for wanting both?”

“No.” Keith says. “No, you’re human for wanting both. You’re… amazing for wanting both.”

“You feel the same,” Lance says, but he’s asking a question he knows the answer to. He just wants to hear it out loud.

“Of course I do,” Keith gasps out a laugh, as if something is being unleashed, “I want to fly, and I want to save people, because it’s the only thing I’m really good at and because I do love it, but - god, I really want a rest. I want to settle down somewhere and just, I don’t know, just not be alone, just for a moment. But I know I’d get bored, and I’d want to go back out there and then it would start again.”

“That doesn’t sound bad.”

“I know.” Keith pauses. “But how do you turn back when you’ve ran too far ahead?”

Lance closes his eyes. “I don’t know, Keith. Maybe we just - “

The call cuts off.

———————————————

Keith cuts off the call as soon as the mission alarm rings. Muscle memory more so than actual desire to end it. He thinks about calling back, about tossing away this mission for once, letting somebody else do it, but then he remembers the vulnerability he felt just then, lay on his back looking up at Lance’s name, and decides he should get up and move. Run ahead of these feelings before they can catch him.

There are two facts. The first: he knows how he feels about Lance. The second: he knows Lance. These two facts run parallel to each other, but will never meet, for as long as he knows how Lance feels about him, or maybe more accurately how he will always feel about Allura, he can never do anything more than simply _feel_ for Lance.

It’s fine. Right now, though, it isn’t, so he leaves his communicator in his room, and leaves his feelings for Lance with it.

———————————————

The only reason Lance isn’t angry at Keith for hanging up on him is that he knows Keith, and that for Keith to hang up so abruptly, he must have been sent on a mission. So instead of getting mad, he unpacks the box in his head labelled ‘Keith and his stupid hair’ and looks into it a little. He likes what he sees, but then of course he does; Keith is his friend, his partner, his equal. Outside of the early rivalry Lance had crafted in his head, Keith has never made him feel stupid or selfish the way Allura had, sometimes. 

Before he can think badly of her, though, he corrects himself. He reminds himself that Allura had carried a heavy burden in her heart, the weight of an entire planet in fact, and that he could never have understood that. In a way, he realises, eyes tearing up, he must have been stupid and selfish to think he could ever place above that.

Suddenly, his window rattles. The wind again. “What do you want?” he whispers, rubbing at his damp eyes. When the lock shakes, Lance takes the hint and opens his window.

He is blasted immediately by a gust of warm air, a gust strong enough to nudge open his bedroom door. “Out there?” he asks. The door rattles impatiently, yes, so he leaves, not after slipping on his jacket and slippers. There is a gentle breeze all the way to his front door, which is locked. Lance opens it and the wind tugs on his jacket gratefully.

He steps out onto the porch and looks around, seeing nothing of note. “I’m tired,” he sighs, feeling suddenly quite mad for coming outside, “this better be important.” There is silence for a beat. The glow of the moon is as bright as day, and the wood beneath his feet shifts slightly, creaking as it settles. On the road ahead of him, something flashes silver. He squints, and makes out a can on the road, diet pepsi, rolling along in the breeze, clattering noisily as if to say, _follow me_. “No,” Lance shakes his head, “This is ridiculous. I am not following that.” Decisively, he spins on his heel to head back to bed.

Another gust of wind and his front door slams shut, locking Lance out. 

“Oh, damn you.” He works his jaw. “Fine. Nothing else to do tonight anyway now that Keith’s busy.”

He follows the pepsi can, out of the farm, down the main road, to a street lined with trees pointing their swaying branches to the central courtyard. It’s a place he recognises. It’s the place he first told Allura he loved her. It’s a place once dead, brought alive by her hands almost exactly a year ago. Perhaps exactly a year ago; heartbreakingly, he can’t remember, but something in the air suggests there should be a grand anniversary taking place. Maybe it’s the early autumn night, when the trees are only just beginning to lose their leaves, and the grass smells so slightly damp, that anything feels possible.

Lance takes in a deep breath, letting it go shudderingly. He steps closer to the tree in the centre, craning his neck to admire it. “This is where Allura first connected with the earth,” he says, to the empty air, which is also to everything. Everything listens, in return. It must be everything which guides him, because suddenly he is reaching for the bark of the tree, and all instinct is leading him to close his eyes.

Touching the bark sets something in him at peace. It loosens a dozen knots in his chest, it spreads a golden warmth through his veins, but also tugs at his heart. It tells him a truth he needed to hear. “This is where Allura first loved me,” he whispers, knowing this. The thread of all reality, which is now Allura, is looping around him and he can feel it, as bark rubbing against his palm or as the wind smoothing down his rumpled jacket. The universe cries out with love, love for Lance, love which started here.

But also, a thought nagging at him anew from the back corner of his mind. “Why couldn’t you tell me that _then_?”

———————————————

“I’m sorry I hung up the other night.”

“It’s okay.”

“There was a mission.”

“I know. Seriously, it’s no big deal. The universe calls, and all.”

“I guess. So, uh, what were you going to say, before.”

“Hmm?”

“Maybe we just - what?”

“Uh, I don’t remember.”

“Oh. I was hoping it was something that would - I don’t know.”

“Keith?”

“Something that would fix me. Some magical words that would make it all okay.”

“You don’t need fixing, idiot. If you need magic words, though, how about these: call someone else.”

“You getting bored of me already?”

“God no Keith, I just meant - let the rest of the team know you’re okay, where you are, what you’re doing. Ask them the same questions you asked me, and maybe you’ll get a better answer than what I have to give.”

“Don’t underestimate yourself sharpshooter, that was some pretty good advice.”

“I know, I’m kind of a genius about these things.”

“Don’t get too excited about it, you’ll sprain something. Besides, it’d be better advice if you actually took it yourself.”

“What?”

“You never call me; you wait for me to call you. Something tells me you’re doing the same with everybody else.”

“I don’t want to bother them. They’re all so busy, saving the universe. Again, I mean. In their own ways.”

“Yeah, and I bet they really need a friend to talk to, to save them. Like - “

“Like?”

“Like how I needed you. To talk with, I mean.”

“Are you saying I saved you? I’m flattered, mullet.”

“Lance. I mean it. I’m - I was losing myself here, and this - you, I mean - really helps. It reminds me there’s someone on my side. Beside me, or whatever, not just looking up at a guy I don’t even recognise as myself. Just hearing your voice, I’m home.”

“...”

“Lance? Is that… too much?”

It’s too much for Keith. His stomach is swooping, and he’s on his bike, about to fall into the abyss for the first time. The feeling of letting something slip - except this time it’s not his body, it’s a piece of his heart. Will Lance notice?

“No, Keith, it’s not too much - you’re helping me too. Thanks, buddy.”

Secretly, it is too much; it’s filling Lance’s chest like wildfire, burning, sending his fingertips tingling with something unknown. He feels consumed.

“I’m glad, Lance.”

———————————————

Keith calls Shiro first, feeling foolish for having left it so long. Eight months of radio silence for his brother; what a reward for his endless compassion.

“Keith?” he says sharply, immediately.

Keith blinks. “How did you know it was me?”

There’s a laugh at the other end. “I didn’t. I try that every time I get a call from an unknown number. It’s pretty rare these days, but not rare enough.”

“Oh, I was thinking that was just your new ‘hello’,” Keith smiles.

“There are some diplomats who I’ve tried it on who think the same. There’s one prime minister who refuses to greet me with anything other than ‘Keith.’ She’s convinced she’s honoring an earth custom.”

Keith swallows. His jaw feels as tight as his chest, like he’s going to be sick, sending him clutching for the communicator with both hands to press it tighter to his ear. “I’m so sorry Shiro,” he sobs, “I - I didn’t mean to leave it this long. I didn’t want you to worry, I just - ”

He can imagine Shiro furrowing his brows on the other side, or gesturing for his crew to leave the room to give him some privacy. “Keith, it’s fine. I knew you were safe, that’s all that matters.”

“But how?” Keith blinks.

“I’m captain of the Atlas,” Shiro responds wryly, “you don’t think I know everything I need to in order to protect my crew?”

“Of course, Shiro, I’d never doubt you. Just,” he pauses, looking down at his knees, pressed together as he sits on his bed, “I didn’t think that included me anymore.”

Shiro makes a noise of protest. “Hey, that will always include you, Keith. You’re my brother. Whatever you need, whether that is company or space or someone to talk to, I’m here for you.”

The love that Keith can hear in Shiro’s voice is enough to have the tears flowing, burning at his eyes. Unable to respond, he nods, knowing Shiro can’t see it, but feeling suddenly that he will understand nonetheless.

“So what do you need?”

He is forever awed by Shiro’s kindness. “Advice, I guess.”

“You’ve got to give me more than that, kid,” Shiro chuckles.

“Fine.” Keith huffs. “I’m... not happy with the Blades anymore. Actually, I don’t think I ever was, but it’s impossible to pretend now that I have no alternative.”

There is silence for a beat. “Uh, wow Keith. That’s… maybe more than I was expecting.”

“You asked. So what do I do? What else, I mean? Because being a leader here is killing me, but I’d get bored living on, like, a farm, just like Lance and - “

“Wait.” Keith stops. “Lance?” Shiro asks, “You’ve been talking to Lance?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“How long has this been going on?” Keith can hear Shiro’s grin, and he doesn’t like it.

“Only a month. Maybe a month and a half, not that long.” He feels defensive.

“Hmm. Is it him who told you to call me?”

Keith closes his eyes. “Yes, but I was going to anyway. At some point.”

“And are you the reason Lance has started calling me again?”

“Wait,” Keith sits up, heart beating faster, “he called you? He actually listened to me.” 

“That answers my question. I wondered...” he trails off. “Lance was asking me something similar, about what to do with himself now, about feeling… adrift. I suggested he come visit one of us for a while.”

Keith’s eyes widen. “Who?”

“Coran, I was thinking. He’s complained about needing an extra pair of hands on Altea, and I thought the work would be similar enough to what he’s doing now to keep him calm - but also different enough to bring him out of his shell.”

“That sounds great, Shiro,” Keith grins, “When’s he going?”

A pause. “That’s the problem Keith. He’s not.”

“What?”

“Lance,” Shiro sighs, “doesn’t seem to think it’s a good idea to leave earth.”

“But he’s - ”

“I agree, but he won’t listen to me. He might just listen to you, however.”

Keith furrows his brow and leans back against the wall beside his bed. “I don’t understand,” he murmurs, “Why would what I say make a difference?”

“Just trust me. Try to convince him, take him to Altea yourself if you have to.”

“I - I can’t just leave the base. I have missions to lead,” he protests. 

“Really?” Shiro sounds smug. “So you’re afraid to leave the place you feel safe, yet stagnate within, even when the people who love you tell you to try something new? Sound familiar to you?” Keith stays silent. “Look, Keith, I think this will be good for you. Trust me.” Shiro pauses. “Your mission, for now, is to convince Lance to visit Coran on Altea, and to get yourself away from the base in the process.”

On one hand, Keith dreams of seeing Lance. Of whisking him away in the dead of night, watching his eyes light up with awe as they get closer to the stars, taking his hand and leading him home. On the other, he’s beginning to have nightmares, too. Awful, vague things; him in the dark, with his arms outstretched, and Lance turning away, walking into the light, lost to the day forever. 

And, separate from Lance completely, is that Shiro is right. He is afraid of leaving this base. Above him are the names of his family carved into cold metal, condensed into one spot to which he can reach if he stretches up far enough, and surrounding him is purpose, though lonely and enduring. If he made himself a little colder, he’d have everything he needed here. 

“Keith? You still with me?” Shiro says, startling him from his thoughts.

“Yeah,” he answers. Because really - he understands. Keith is older and wiser, and not so lonely now his friends are a call away, and he knows how to get what he wants, just as long as he knows that he wants it. 

What he wants, is to change his reality, to throw it off for something grand and exciting and peaceful in the way that he deserves. 

What he wants is a life of both adventure and love - and he wants to share it with Lance. Lance, his partner, his equal. And he knows that Lance could want that too, if he shows him just how amazing it could be.

“I’ll convince him,” he tells Shiro, promising himself that at the very least, he will try his hardest. “Give me a month.” For Lance.

**Author's Note:**

> look kids - i've got about 2500 words more already written but it's pretty slow going right now. i am determined to finish this, at the least for myself, because i love it, but i thought uploading the first half(ish) would motivate me to speed up.
> 
> comments are fuel i love you all


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